


Rapprochement

by elenniel



Series: Loki & Sif [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenniel/pseuds/elenniel
Summary: Sif, returning from a mission, goes to answer a distress call and finds Loki, whom she thought long dead and gone. (SPOILER WARNING for Avengers: Infinity War and all the Thor movies)





	Rapprochement

**Author's Note:**

> A what-if-Loki-survived scenario, into which I have funnelled my own ideas about why in The Dark World, Loki thinks that the sight of him walking with Sif is "less conspicuous", and also squeezes one of my favourite lines from the Thor: Season One comic.

The distress call repeated itself in Sif’s mind over and over again. But there was nothing she could do to make her ship go more quickly than it already did. The two soldiers accompanying her were just as anxious. Gunnar kept staring at the navigation display, as if watching the blip that represented their ship could make it jump instantly to Asgard. Arvid fiddled with his spear in a manner that spoke of more than mere boredom.

Why, Sif asked herself, was there a refugee ship of Asgardians in the first place? The distress signal had come from a spot in space some distance away from Asgard. That in itself was troubling. Something must have happened on Asgard. But what?

Hours later, the ship sounded an alert – in bell-like tones that did _not_ match the mood of its three occupants – that indicated they were arriving at their destination.

There was a slight jolt. Streaks of light. A bright flare and another jolt as they dropped out of hyperspace.

Then… Pieces of a ship, floating in space. Worse, people – and pieces of people – floating in space.

Sif was speechless, as were her two companions. They stared at the nightmarish scene, mouths agape.

Arvid was the first to speak. “What… Happened?”

That brought Sif out of her shock. “Something terrible.” She turned to Gunnar, who sat at the ship’s controls. “Survivors?”

His fingers flew over the console even as he answered Sif. “Searching right now, milady.”

Sif walked over to the window and peered out at the horror. Her question to Gunnar had been one of reflex – she did not think there were any survivors. There were so many bodies… Not all of them Asgardian. That too was strange. And added to the questions in her head. Who were these others? Where were these refugees going? _Why w_ ere there refugees?? Where was Fandral? And Hogun and Volstagg? And Odin? What was happening?

Arvid gasped. Sif looked at him sharply. “What is it?”

He gestured and she followed the direction of his fingers. And then it was Sif’s turn to gasp.

There was a body – a body familiar to her. More questions filled her mind as the blood drained from her face. 

“Get him aboard.”

… … …

Arvid had laid the body on the bed in the tiny healing room of their ship. Sif stood over it, attempting to sort her emotions.

The motionless body of Loki lay before her. It was a grim sight; death was writ all over it in its ashen colour.

But why was his body here at all? He’d died on Svartalfheim. Thor said so. Thor had watched him die. Was this a fake? Some abominable trickery?

_Trickery._

Sif narrowed her eyes. She could feel something like rage building within her.

Loki had loved tricks. Was this yet another example of his handiwork? Had he fooled them all somehow?

Yet even if he had, _why was he here_? If… If Loki had truly not died on Svartalfheim, why was he here and what had happened to cause this tragedy? Something awful _must_ have happened.

She wanted answers.

“Loki, you had best not be dead this time. Get up.”

The body lay still. Sif, having long lost any form of squeamishness around dead bodies, prodded the wrist.

“I swear, Loki, wake up and answer me. What happened?” _What happened to you? What happened_ here _?_

Feelings she didn’t know still remained suddenly came rushing to the surface.

“Damn it. _Wake up_! Wake up so I can kill you myself!”

Shock. Anger. Bewilderment. Loss. Frustration. The sensations overwhelmed her and she had to brace herself, propping her hands on the bed. Sif closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She was not the crying type, but at that moment, Sif felt herself dangerously close to tears.

The tears that might have come never did, however. A faint shimmer emanating from the body on the bed caught her attention and she backed away.

Bluish green light flickered across the body, the skin became a little less grey and more pink, and Loki, traitor prince of Asgard, came to life with a cough and a gasp.

Loki blinked, coughed some more, and squinted at the ceiling, as if the lights were too bright. He moved his hands cautiously, flexing his fingers one by one. As if suddenly realising that he was somewhere unfamiliar, he sat up with a start and looked around, sliding off the bed as he did so.

Then he saw her. “Sif…?”

All her different emotions coalesced into one: fury.

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything more. Loki let out a choked gasp as she flew at him, pinned him to the wall with an arm across his throat, the heel of her boot digging into his shin, and a dagger just inches from his heart.

“ _You_.”

Loki eyed the shiny edge of her dagger with more than a little fear. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“You’re supposed to be _dead_ ,” she said, and pushed harder against his neck.

“Si-if. Please!” His voice was strangled.  

“You. Were. Dead.” The point of her blade touched the leather that covered his chest armour. “ _Why_ are you alive? Answer me!”

Loki strained against her arm as he spoke and pointed towards it.

Sif moved her arm down to press against his collarbone instead. “There. Now _talk_!”

Loki had to inhale deeply several times before his breathing ceased to be laboured. “I can explain.”

“Then start explaining,” said Sif between gritted teeth. “Why are you here? Where is the Allfather? What happened?”

“Odin – my father is dead.”

“ _What_?”

Loki gulped. His nervousness was palpable. _Good_ , she thought.

“I didn’t kill him, Sif.”

“Oh, really? I suppose he died in his sleep,” she said sarcastically.

“He – he said it was his time. Sif!”  Her dagger now hovered dangerously close to the underside of Loki’s chin. “Sif, please,” he begged.

“You can still talk. I haven’t cut your throat yet.”

“Sif… Sif, I – he was on Midgard, all right? I sent him there!”

“When did you do that?”

“After Malekith.”

“What? Then who was – oh, I should have _known_.” Of course Loki had impersonated the Allfather. It was just like him to do that. She glared at him.

Loki squirmed, but continued hastily, “He died after Thor and I found him and then Hela came and threw us – Thor and me – to Sakaar. We returned and stopped her from killing everyone. But Asgard is destroyed. Only Surtur could defeat Hela –”

Sif frowned. “Who is Hela?”

“The goddess of death. Our elder sister.”

“ _Sister_?”

“Yes, father left that piece of family history out of our bedtime stories.”

Clearly a great deal had happened while she was away. “Continue.”

“We let Surtur destroy Asgard. It was the only way, Sif.” When the knife’s point touched his skin, he hurriedly added, “It was _Thor’s_ idea! So pray, don’t place the blame on me this time. _I_ brought the ship on which we left. We had the remaining Asgardians with us. But then – but then…”

To Sif’s astonishment, Loki actually paled. That was no mean feat for one already so fair-skinned. Involuntarily, she let the dagger drop an inch. The look on his face sent her back decades. Centuries, even. Long years ago when they were younger, when Loki was less secretive, more vulnerable. A time when she had first felt like she could, perhaps, love the second son of Odin.

“Loki…”

“ _He_ came. Thanos.”

“Thanos? Why? How?”

“I don’t – I think – maybe he sensed the Tesseract.”

“The Tesseract? Was it not on Asgard? You said Asgard was destroyed. How –” Sif stopped. Her heart hardened once more. “ _You took it_.”

Loki looked at her with a haunted expression. “You may not believe me, but I do regret it.”

“Then what?”

“They tore us apart, Thanos and the Black Order. He threatened to kill Thor if I didn’t hand over the Tesseract. I… I called his bluff. But then he almost killed him and I couldn’t –” He swallowed as the sentence broke. “So I gave it up. I thought the Hulk could –”

“The what?”

“The Hulk. A friend of Thor’s. Never mind. Thanos defeated him and took the Tesseract. And Heimdall…”

The hand holding the dagger faltered. “Heimdall is dead?”

“He used what power he could summon to send the Hulk away… To warn Midgard. And Thanos killed him for that.”

Sadness welled up within her. But there would be time to mourn – later. Sif gave Loki a nod of mute assent to continue with his tale.

“I tried to – I tried to kill Thanos.” Loki closed his eyes. The next words were slow to come. “I failed. Thanos strangled me and broke my neck.”

Sif dropped her gaze to his neck. There were indeed bruises there that could have been the result of an attempt at strangulation.

“But you are not dead,” she said. “Though you might well be after I get all the answers I want out of you.”

“I almost died.” Loki’s voice was quieter now. “When he picked me up, I invoked an ancient spell of the Light Elves. It wraps you in magic, even as you die, and works at healing the worst wounds despite the appearance of death. And _no_ ” – the emphasis was fierce even though his tone was low – “I did _not_ always know this spell. So do not give me that look of disgust. I have never used it before Svartalfheim. It has taken me centuries to learn and even then I could not be sure it would work each time. It is not a perfect spell; it can only go so far. Had my head been crushed, or my body set aflame immediately, the spell would have been of no use.”

“Very good. Now I know how I should go about killing you after all this.”

“I cast it over Thor as well.”

That made Sif pause. “Thor? Where is he?”

“I do not know. The spell puts you in a deep sleep, almost a comatose state; it aids the healing process whilst also adding to the effect of death. You found me. Did you not see Thor’s body?”

“No. There is a great deal of debris out there. I have the crew on the lookout for survivors, and they will most certainly alert me if they see Thor. The ship was blown up?”

“I cannot tell,” he said. “I have no memory from the point when I ‘died’. But if there is debris, there must have been an explosion.”

“Is Thor dead then?”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “The spell worked on me. It _must_ have worked on him too.”

“How do you know? Perhaps it requires the person to have magic. Or perhaps… Perhaps your blood helped you survive.”

He flinched and Sif felt the prickling of awareness and slight regret. She could see that the words – the way she had said it – hurt him. But, she reasoned, he was hardly deserving of pity. Or was he?

“If his body is not out there, then someone else has been here before you and found him. Think what you will of me except in this – I know my strengths. Magic is one of them. If _I_ barely survived being strangled and lived through the blast that followed, then Thor certainly lived too. I may have been the one to cast the spell, but not all spells die when the spellcaster does. Even if this was one such spell… Well, the spellcaster is not dead yet.”

“Is that your way of suggesting that I shouldn’t kill you after all?”

“You have already implied that you would like to put an end to my life several times today. And I believe your last words to me prior to this were ‘Betray him and I’ll kill you.’”

 _That_ made Sif uncomfortable. She had never been quite happy that her “last” words to Loki were of that tone. When news of Loki’s sacrifice and death on Svartalfheim had made its way to her, something had cracked inside her. Thor’s own retelling of the story made it worse. The apologies that had tumbled from Loki’s mouth as he died… When Thor told it to Sif and the Warriors Three, he had broken down in sorrow. It was not surprising – they all knew how much Thor cared for his brother. But what had surprised Sif was the realisation of how deeply she had loved Loki of Asgard. And it was crushing to think that they had parted on such a note and in such circumstances.

Now, though… Loki was not dead and very much alive. Pale and battered, but alive.

Loki said, “I doubt that I could persuade you to spare my life if you are so determined on such a course of action. I would only ask that you seek out the group that departed in the escape pods. If Thor is alive, I do not doubt that he is fine. They, however, will need a leader they can recognise.”

“Some people escaped? Not everyone died?”

“As far as I know.”

During the pause that followed, Sif’s dagger never wavered. Finally, she said, “I think you are quite deserving of death.”

Loki set his jaw and almost as though he put on a mask, the haunted look was replaced by an apathetic one. He sighed and placed his arms behind his back. “Yes,” he said, “I probably am. Have at it then. I promise you I won’t try to save myself.” He smiled slightly, and sadly. “I did tell you how to truly kill me.”

“I think you are quite deserving of death,” repeated Sif, dropping her dagger and releasing him. “But I think you of all people can find Thor. So I will need you for that.”

She was pleased to find that she could still render him speechless with surprise.

… … …

One day and many explanations later, Sif found herself watching as Loki attempted a scrying spell on a small hand mirror. But though her eyes were on him, she hardly saw him. Her mind was a million miles away, back on her home – a home that no longer existed. It had taken some time for Loki to tell her the whole story, but she had pieced it together now and it left her with heavy thoughts.

Asgard was gone. The Warriors Three were gone. Heimdall had told Loki and Thor so, and Heimdall would not lie about that. Heimdall… Heimdall too was no more. It was devastating. Yet she had not lost everything. Some Asgardians still lived and were somewhere about under the leadership of a Valkyrie. There would also be a small number of Asgardians scattered about the Realms – those who travelled for trade or other reasons. There were not many of them, but there were some. They would need to be informed of Asgard’s destruction.

Moreover, Thor still lived. She had instructed Gunnar and Arvid to scan and search the wreckage for Thor, and they had spent three days there but there was no Thor to be found. Loki’s assertion that the spell must have worked and therefore at Thor must be alive somewhere gave her hope that Thor had not died.

Now she could only wait for Loki to find a way to track Thor. Or to track down the Valkyrie and her small ship of Asgardian refugees. But which one should she do first? Find Thor? Or find the Valkyrie?

As for Loki… Here was a problem of a completely different nature.

There was a time when it had been known to many that Prince Loki and Lady Sif had an understanding between them. There had been few objections (which had surprised them both). Their parents had been approving, and the queen had been the most pleased of all. Thor and their friends had grinned, teased, and generally let them be. It had gone well for nearly a century. It had gone so well, in fact, that despite having long thought she would never marry, Sif occasionally entertained thoughts of how Loki’s courtship would end – for him, she could give up her maiden status and be wed. Loki would never force her into giving up battle just because they were wed. They could have been happy together…

But then Odin had made it clear that he would officially name Thor his heir in a great ceremony. And everything had unravelled.

When Loki fell from the Bifrost, she had grieved as much as Loki’s own family. It was a double loss, for Loki had (she thought) died and died a jealous wretch – a sad, unworthy death.

Life had continued, however, but when she thought she was beginning to forget at last, Heimdall brought news of Loki’s appearance on Midgard. Thor had not allowed her to go with him to retrieve Loki, so she did not see him until Thor returned with him in shackles. But she did not speak to him nor see him again until the Dark Elves came. And in an attempt to save Thor on Svartalfheim, Loki had died. Again.

And it had been false. Again.

_Am I happy that he is still alive?_

_No. Yes. Perhaps. I do not know._

She was certainly still angry. Yet there was a change in him, and if all that he had told her was true, she sensed that it was a good change.

So deep in thought was Sif that she barely noticed Loki’s struggle with the mirror. His growl of frustration brought her out of her reverie.

“What is it?”

“It isn’t working,” said Loki, sitting down heavily in a chair on the other side of the table. He set the mirror down.

Sif’s long experience with Loki told her that he was falling into a dark mood. Loki had never liked failing, especially not when it came to spellwork, and just then he was the epitome of sullenness. “You will find a way,” she said, in an attempt to soothe him.

“I have to. Else you will consider me a waste of air and space and send me to my death.”

“Loki,” she said exasperatedly.

He turned away with a disgruntled expression. “You begin to sound like my mother.”

“Perhaps that is a good thing. You usually listened to the Queen when you would heed no one else.”

Sif stared at the opposite wall of the healing room. Her mention of Queen Frigga had brought back memories that felt more distant than they were.

Frigga had not been a warrior in the way that Sif was, but Sif regarded her with great love and respect. She had been the loving influence, the wise counsel, and in some ways, the clever mind behind the throne. Sif had felt that Loki occupied a special place in Frigga’s heart. That had puzzled her a little, but she had never given it much thought. After learning that Loki was a Jotunn, Sif understood it at last. Frigga had tried very hard to love Loki and make him feel like he was part of the family. He was special to her _because_ he was not of her blood. If only Loki had seen it earlier and appreciated that…

Without turning to Loki, she asked, “Do you miss her?”

“Every single day.”

Sif gave no indication that she heard the tremor in his voice. She allowed a little time to pass, then said, “I think… Her Majesty would have been proud of you.”

“Proud of the son who cast Odin down to Midgard and wrapped him in a spell so he couldn’t remember who he was?”

“Proud of the son who helped save the remainder of his people!” said Sif, more fiercely than she’d intended. Loki was always too quick to put himself down; it was a trait that often frustrated her. “Proud of the son who came to his brother’s aid, even though not so very long ago he denounced his entire family.” Instinctively, unthinkingly, Sif reached across and covered Loki’s hand with hers. “Perhaps even proud of the son who could cast a spell so strong that it took the Allfather years to break it. You told me yourself that Odin said Frigga would have been proud.”

He was looking down with surprise, and just as Sif realised he was looking at her hand, just as she realised what she was doing, he raised his eyes to meet hers. There was confusion in his face, and longing and disbelief and sadness. The naked emotions threw her.

She pulled her hand away, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Sif nodded and excused herself, saying she needed to check on Arvid and Gunnar. She felt Loki’s eyes follow her as she walked away.

… … …

Gunnar sighed as he entered the lounge.

“Are they quarrelling again?” inquired Arvid.

“Yes,” said Gunnar. “And I do believe it is the exact same argument as yesterday’s.”

“Oh, by the gods… Is that still not resolved?”

“‘I am going to find Thor myself and _you_ are going to stay with the others’ was what the prince was shouting as I walked past the helm. Hand me that ale.”

“No doubt Lady Sif is giving him a piece of her mind – again.” Arvid passed the bottle of ale to Gunnar along with a mug. “We still have a crate of that left but we probably shouldn’t drink it all up. It could be the last crate of Asgardian ale in all the Nine Realms.”

Gunnar poured himself a drink. “Excellent point. But let me enjoy this bottle since it is already open.”

… … …

The glowing yellow spot on the navigation display indicated their ship’s progress through space. Loki curled his fingers into a fist. He had not managed to locate his brother, but after attempting several spells, he had divined the direction of the Valkyrie’s ship. Sif had immediately turned the ship to track them. Loki would have preferred to have taken an escape pod or something and gone off to seek Thor, but Sif would not have it.

“If you two are going to face the mad Titan again –”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki said. “Thanos is not a joke!”

“I never said he was! What makes you think I’m taking this lightly? Aren’t _you_ the one underestimating the situation? He all but killed you once and you escaped by the skin of your teeth. And now you want to go face him again with little more help than you had before!”

“Sif, try to understand –”

“I refuse!” Sif gave the control panel a quick look and flicked a button. “You are _not_ going out there on your own again. Either you go with me, or you go with Thor _when we find him_.”

“What part of ‘you might die’ do you not understand?”

“What part of ‘Thanos is going to kill half the universe so I might die _anyway_ ’ do _you_ not understand?”

“I am also thinking of Asgard!” said Loki.

“Asgard is gone, remember?”

“‘Asgard is a people’, _remember_? (I should like to know where Thor learnt that phrase - it sounds peculiar though I comprehend the sentiment behind it.) The point _is_ – the people with the Valkyrie woman will need a leader and I think you should be that leader.”

“Why can’t the Valkyrie do it?” argued Sif.

“You really want an alcoholic Valkyrie to lead the remainder of our people?”

“Yes, when she’s the best option left!”

“She is _not_ the best option left – _you_ are.”

“I have a better idea: _You_ can be their leader while I go in search of Thor. You like being king, after all.”

Loki felt a great urge to throw something. “You cannot handle Thanos and the Black Order – not even with Thor.”

“And you can?” she shot back.

“I am better equipped for the task than you are if for no other reason than by simple virtue of experience.”

Sif snorted derisively.

His own words to Thanos – “ _I consider experience experience_ ” – and the things that followed came back to him. He pushed the dark memory away before it engulfed him. There had been one too many dark memories connected to Thanos in his life – and ever since Sif pulled him from space, they haunted his dreams.

“Much good that did you,” said Sif.

 _I am weary of this_. Loki sank back into his seat and closed his eyes. The things that had happened recently – Sakaar, Hela, Ragnarok, Thanos – had taken a toll on him and the nightmares meant he had not slept well the past two nights. He felt it most in his lessened stamina. Scrying and seeking spells were not usually the most exhausting, but he felt drained now. And though his forte was words, he found that he did not at that moment have the strength to fight Sif this way. He did not really wish to fight her at all.

“What’s wrong?” Sif’s question was sharp.

“I am merely tired,” he replied. “And I concede. You win, milady. We will all go to seek out my brother. Let us not debate the point any longer.”

“Now I _know_ that something is wrong.”

“Do not trouble yourself. It is nothing.”

Sif said nothing more for a time but just when Loki began to relax, she spoke again. “If you are tired, go rest. You need not be here. I can handle the ship on autopilot for a time.”

He opened an eye to peer at her. “Are you certain you want to let me walk out of here unguarded, unaccompanied?” he asked, half in jest. “You haven’t let me leave the healing room alone since you had me brought aboard.”

“Are you saying I should mistrust you?” Sif touched a point on her screen, bringing up a scrolling list of the ship’s logs. “I brought you in here because it is easier to pilot a ship with two, and I thought to give Arvid and Gunnar some rest. But as I said – this ship _can_ be handled by one for a time. So you should rest.” She glanced at him before going back to the scrolling list. “I trusted you once, Loki. I should like to trust you again.”

If there had been any thoughts in Loki’s head about betraying her, those words would have given him pause. But he was not inclined to betray her, and the words stung. They stung all the more because he knew she had every reason to doubt him.

He stared unseeingly at the console before him. There were so many things he longed to say to her, but the words would not form themselves on his tongue.

 _I hate myself for leaving my mother with bitter words. I wish I had recognised that Father did care. I shouldn’t have taken the Tesseract, it should have been destroyed along with the realm. I should have told you. I wish I had listened to you. And to Mother. I wish I had been satisfied. You should have been everything – you_ were _everything. But I was weak and envious. I was afraid._

“Go and sleep, Loki.”

Finally Loki stood. “Sif,” he said.

She looked at him, a question in the tilt of her head.

“I am sorry. Truly.”

He bowed, and left, walking straight to the healing room that was for the moment his quarters.

… … …

_Thanos sits on a great stone chair. Loki holds his head high before him._

_“And what will you do with the powers of the Mind Stone if I give it to you?”_

_“I will bring you the Space Stone. That which they call the Tesseract.”_

_“So confident, Asgardian.”_

_Svartalfheim’s sky is a sickly yellow-green hue. Loki makes his way over to where the creature that killed his mother is pummelling Thor. He picks up a weapon, and with all his might, shoves it through the monster. It looks at him, grabs him, and then the sword is piercing his chest in turn. He gasps._

_Thor cries out, “Nooo!”_

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says._

_The cell is white, almost a blinding white. Frigga brings small comforts for him – a lounge chair, a table, a small stool, a few books._

_“Then am I not your mother?”_

_She gives him a small smile, but the concern on her face has never quite gone away since he returned. He almost breaks, but steels himself to say, “No, you’re not.”_

_A night bird sings somewhere in the trees above them. Sif’s arm is linked with his, and they are walking through the expansive royal gardens as the moonlight filters through the trees._

_“Are you sure you would not prefer to be in the training yards?” he asks._

_“You know very well that I would not be able to be there now while a banquet is in progress.”_

_“Indeed. But we could sneak off there nevertheless…”_

_“Oh, this isn’t so bad.” She smiles, and it is wonderful._

_The Titan smiles a cheerless smile. Loki’s heart stops in his chest and he shouts at him, but no sound comes out. Thanos clenches the fist with the gauntlet._

_“I am sorry that she has to die. But be comforted, foolish prince, for you will join her soon.”_

_Sif is staring at him, open-mouthed. She reaches for him… And falls to the ground._

_The sea off the Norwegian coast is calm. It is a quiet area, this space where Odin has chosen to live._

_“I love you, my sons.”_

_Suddenly, Loki feels a longing to embrace the old man._

_“Look,” says Odin, pointing to the horizon._

_A great black ship rises into view. Dread fills Loki’s heart, for he knows that ship. Thanos has come._

Loki awoke with his heart hammering in his chest. There was something on his face. He touched his cheek and found tears there. He pushed himself to a sitting position and pressed the base of his hand to his eyes to wipe away the errant tears.

He washed his face in the basin and stood over it for a few moments, taking deep breaths. He ran a hand through his hair. Was he ever going to have a peaceful sleep again? Or was he doomed to forever have his sleep filled with memories and visions of the future, the good and the bad alternating and wreaking havoc with his mind? Was this his punishment for all his sins?

“Loki.”

He spun around, a knife appearing in his hand as he did so.

Sif was there, leaning against the door.

He inhaled, long and slow. He dropped his hand and the knife vanished. “Pray, do not do that again, Sif.”

“I did not mean to startle you.”

“How long have you been there?”

“A while.”

 _Oh_. Loki wondered if he had talked in his sleep, or thrashed about strangely. What had she seen? Or heard?

“Is this why you’ve been looking so tired?” she asked.

“I take it that you are referring to my… Restless sleep.”

“If you can call it sleep.”

He found the flask of water and poured some out into a cup. “I daresay that recent events have greatly contributed to my exhaustion. Also, a spell – two spells – meant to preserve life requires a good deal of magic.” He downed the contents of the cup. “But yes, you could say that I have not been sleeping well.”

Sif moved from the door to stand beside him at the counter. “I have bad dreams too, sometimes. I used to have them more often.”

 _Am I in those dreams?_ he wanted to ask. _Am I the cause of them?_

“I found it… Helpful… To discuss it with others,” said Sif. She seemed to be studying the lights on the ceiling. “I spoke to Heimdall. I spoke to Hogun. I talked much with your mother. It was a relief to do so. Gradually, the dreams lessened.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Eventually, he settled for, “I am glad of that.”

“Once, you might have confided in me when you had nightmares. Will you not talk to me now?” She turned and fixed her eyes on him.  

Loki swallowed. She was so close – just inches away. To talk about the dreams that haunted him would be to break down – he was sure that he would break. Long gone was the time when he would have bent towards her, kissed her, and then told her everything. Was it right to burden her with his thoughts?

“It would not be right,” he said. “We are not – we are no longer what we were to each other.”

There was a long silence.

“Perhaps not,” replied Sif. “But if you wish to have a listening ear… I am at the very least still your friend, Loki. Know that I do not hate you.”

He watched her leave.

… … …

Emotions were strange things. When Loki had coughed and returned to life, Sif had felt rage and indeed, had almost hated him in that moment. But she did not hate him now. Indeed, almost perversely, old affection had resurfaced much more quickly than she would have imagined.

“We are no longer what we were to each other.”

It had been a blow to her. Not until Loki said those words had Sif realised just how much of the long-buried feelings had worked their way back out. Perhaps his feelings were gone, but hers were most inconveniently still there.

Yet, there had been that look in his face when she’d placed her hand over his. And she had seen – or thought she had seen – longing in his eyes when she asked him to talk to her about his nightmares. Had she been so mistaken?

Sif distracted herself by later taking a shift at the helm with Gunnar, and discussed the next step once they located the Asgardian refugees. Arvid and Gunnar would need to assist the Valkyrie, that much was certain.

“But would it not be wiser for us to accompany you, Lady Sif?”

“I think not. The refugees will need all the leadership and strength they can get.”

“Or should not you stay with them, and let Arvid or myself go with Prince Loki?”

Sif smiled. “I daresay whichever one of you did that would quickly regret it. No, I think it is best if I go with him. He can be… Difficult. Furthermore, when we find Thor, a hand strong enough to rein in the both of them will be required. You are both excellent soldiers, and have been trustworthy companions thus far. But neither of you has the experience with both princes to be able to do that.”

Gunnar acknowledged the truth of that.

A chime came from the door. Sif gestured for Gunnar to open it. Arvid had the access codes and would not have needed to sound the chime, so it must be Loki.

It was indeed Loki.

“Lady Sif,” he said, “I wish speak with you, if you would spare me a moment.”

Sif exchanged looks with Gunnar. “Call Arvid,” she told him. “I will go speak with the prince awhile.”

Sif motioned for Loki to follow her. She made her way to the mess hall, where she sat down and pointed to an empty seat nearby.

Loki sat down, but he had an air of discomfort about him. “You asked me to talk to you. About the nightmares.”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and wringing his hands in a preoccupied manner.

“I do not wish to burden you, milady.”

“When it is at my own request, it is a burden willingly taken.”

Loki’s eyes met hers, and the gaze held for several heartbeats. When he looked away, he began to talk.

“The dreams I have, they are mostly memories. Sometimes not. The ones that are memories are brief, and they flash by like the turning of pages in a book. But they leave me with vivid feelings and impressions. I see my mother, and I feel great love but also sorrow so deep it is like being torn apart. I see Thor, and there is sometimes the sense of brotherhood, sometimes the most intense jealousy.” Here Loki paused, as if trying to collect himself.

“Is that all you see?” prompted Sif.

“No… I have dreamt of my father, have seen myself dying on Svartalfheim. I have seen our adventures throughout the realms. And I have seen my mother naming me ruler whilst my father lay in the Odinsleep. I have seen… I have seen you.”

Sif looked at him, but he kept his gaze on his hands. She noticed that his hands were trembling.

Loki went on. “Thanos appears frequently in these dreams. And it fills me with great dread and doom.”

He covered his eyes with one hand and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“These are memories of your dealings with Thanos?”

“Some,” said Loki from behind his hand. “The parts of these dreams that are not memories – especially those that involve Thanos – feel equal parts real and terrifying. It is… Not a recipe for a comfortable rest.”

Sif went to pour some water into two glasses. She placed one glass before Loki, holding the other as she resumed her seat.

He murmured his thanks and took up the glass to drink.

“Are these dreams new?” Sif asked.

“If by ‘new’ you mean, ‘they started after I came back from the dead’, then yes. I certainly did not have them with such frequency or such vividness prior to this.”

“Side effect?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He replaced the glass on the table. “The perils of using ancient spells…”

Sif turned her cup in her hand, idly observing the glint of reflected light on the cut-glass pattern. This was beginning to feel like old times, the times before Loki had begun to withdraw from her prior to the debacle with the Frost Giants. He said he’d seen her in his troubling dreams. What had he seen? What memories came to him?

“You said you’d seen me in these dreams. May I ask what is it you saw?”

“Only if you really want to know.”

“I really want to know.”

His eyes fell shut, and he said, “I saw our times together. The hunts, the feasts. Your face when I declined to summon Thor back to Asgard. Your mourning at my funeral after Svartalfheim. I saw you… As queen by my side. I saw you die at Thanos’s hand. I saw you marry Thor.” Loki looked distressed.

Stiffly, she said, “I should hope you know which parts are the true memories and which are not.”

“I know those last three are not true memories. Though I wish that one of them was true,” he added quietly.

Sif’s breath caught in her throat. He did not look at her still, but there was sincerity and sadness in his face and Sif was, once again, caught off guard by the raw emotion she saw in him.

“Loki…”

“I remember walking with you,” he said suddenly. “Long walks through the palace halls. Through the gardens. Through the city. And along with those walks, conversations.”

 _More than conversations sometimes_ , thought Sif. She recalled it too – kisses behind trees and warm embraces on balconies, soft looks and gentle touches, knowing glances and flirtatious smiles.

Loki spoke more slowly now, as though he was trying very hard to come up with the right words. “I regret that I was not more open with you when I was… Troubled.”

“‘Troubled’ is putting it mildly,” she remarked.

He acknowledged it with a nod.

“Why did you do it, Loki?”

Loki chuckled, a small and bitter laugh. “To which of my many awful deeds are you referring?”

“All of them. But I suppose we can start with letting the Frost Giants into Asgard.”

He sat very still.

Just when she thought she would need to prompt him again, he spoke.

“Because I wanted more.”

Ah, there it was. The truth at last. She had known it – he had been jealous and angry and had taken his mischievous ways too far – but she wanted to hear it from his own lips. And she asked the question that she had long wanted answered: “Was I not enough?”

Loki raised his head, surprised. “What?”

“Was I not enough for you?” She could not hide the pain in her voice.

It took him a while to answer, and when he did, he stumbled through it in a manner uncharacteristic of him.

“Sif… Sif, you were enough. _More_ than enough. You were not the problem, ever. It was never you. It was my own foolish self that was ‘not enough.’ I desired – I sought to be more than Thor, to be seen as worthy of the throne. I… I did not wish to be everyone’s second choice.”

“You were not _my_ second choice.” When Loki volunteered no response, she said, “Did you think that I would find you lacking?

“It was highly probable that you would.”

“You truly thought so little of me?”

“No!” he said emphatically. “Perhaps - perhaps I thought _too_ much of you… Yet at the same time did not think at all of you.”

“That,” said Sif, “is a very ‘Loki’-like sentence. And it is rather irritating that it makes sense despite being confusing.”

A little wry smile crossed his face. But it only stayed for a moment as silence fell again.

She stood and went to the window. “I wish you had talked to me.”

“That might not have done any good.” Loki joined her. “I was not in a reasoning mood in those days.”

“That is true. You wanted greatness so badly you would have done anything to achieve it.” _Even lose me._

As though Loki had heard her unspoken words, he hung his head.  “If I could turn back time, I would. I am sorry, Sif.”

“I am sorry too, Loki. But I think… I would not turn time back if I could.”

“Why not?” He sounded puzzled.

“Because the Loki here now is a Loki that has come to accept himself – if not completely, then certainly more than he did before. And you have only come to that after all that has happened.”

Loki blinked uncertainly at her and pointed out that he had committed many wrongs.

“Who hasn’t?” said Sif.

“But I –”

“You will make up for it.”

“Do you think so?”

“I will help you. And so will Thor, once we find him. But know this, Loki,” – she looked at him – “in some things at least, you need never envy your brother.”

His expression was as complicated as the man himself and Sif could not match a single emotion to it, for they seemed to be all mixed up together. 

“What are you saying?” There was bewilderment and hesitation in his tone.

She raised her eyebrows.

“You cannot be saying what I think you are saying.” He was beginning to ramble; she felt it in the way the words tumbled from his mouth. “It is impossible. I have wronged you so greatly. And I am – I am of Jotunn des-”

Sif interrupted him. “You have Jotunn blood. You were Jotunn from the start, but it does not matter to me unless you intend to stab me with a knife of ice. And you are not planning on doing that, are you?”

He shook his head.

“You are Loki, son of Odin and Frigga, a prince of Asgard. You have wronged me and many others, yes. I am still angry, yes. But you have helped to save what remains of our people and you are, I think, trying to right some of your wrongs. And so, what I am saying is…” She trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words the feelings in her heart.

“Sif?” ventured Loki.

“I _see_ you, Loki. I have always seen you. Ever since we were young together and the world was young with us, I saw you. I may not have loved you from the beginning but neither did you love me from the first. Yet I did love you. And, irrational as it may seem, I still do.”

He gaped at her, stunned.

Gently, she poked his chest. “I believe it is your turn to say something now, my prince.”

Oh, it had been _so_ long since she’d called him that. “Prince” was a general nickname she used for Thor and Loki both on occasion, but “ _my_ prince” was reserved only for Loki. How easy it was to slip into those old habits.

Loki’s hand caught hers, but he held it lightly, uncertainly. “My lady… Sif… I never ceased to love you.”

“That is good,” said Sif, removing her hand from his so she could slide it up his neck to touch his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into her touch for a moment before taking hold of her hand again and pressing a kiss into her palm.

Then Sif reached up and pulled him down to her so she could kiss him properly. Into it she poured the feelings she’d put aside since Thor was first sent to Midgard, the many _I love yous_ and _I missed you_ s that had gone unspoken. 

Loki returned the kiss with fervour, sliding an arm around her waist and tangling his other hand in her hair. Sif allowed herself to be lost in the sensations of his embrace, enjoying the feel of Loki’s lips on hers and the way the skin of his neck grew warm under her fingers. She had missed this…

A sharp chime snapped them out of it. Gunnar’s voice came over the communicating channel.

“Lady Sif! Prince Loki! There is a ship ahead – it may be the Valkyrie’s.”

They were both breathing heavily. Loki, an arm still around her, touched his forehead to Sif’s, as if to retain as much physical contact as possible. His free hand traced her jawline tenderly.

“We will be there soon,” said Sif.

“Yes, milady.”

A slight clicking sound told her that Gunnar had closed the channel.

Sif looked at Loki and smiled. He smiled too, a genuine one untouched by bitterness or sadness.

“It gives me joy to see that smile,” she said. “It has been too long since I saw that.”

He leaned towards her again and captured her lips for another kiss – shorter, but no less passionate – before he released her so they could make their way to the helm.

As they walked briskly down the corridors of the ship, Sif remarked, “You know, Loki, I don’t think I would really want to be a queen.”

“As you do not wish to marry my brother, I hardly see that as being a problem.”

“Yes,” said Sif, keying in the access code to the helm. The door slid open and she looked back at Loki. “But I don’t think I have many objections to someday being a princess. Perhaps.”

The flabbergasted, delighted look on his face would stay with her for a very, very long time.

 

\- **the end** -

   

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Sifki fic writing, and I couldn't have done it without the feedback on the MCU from chidi-anagonye on Tumblr (a.k.a. a_ufo_party here on AO3) and namibean's suggestions for getting over writer's block so here's a big THANK YOU to the both of them! Do go check out their fics ;)


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